


The Delicate Art of Staying and Leaving

by HydrogenHero2187



Series: Who Killed Markiplier? (And What The D.A. Is Going To Do About It) [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Best Friends, But it's okay, Celine needs to spend more time with them all, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Damien is really sad, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Families of Choice, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurts So Good, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mark is still an asshole, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Romance if you squint, Sad and Happy, The D.A. is Traumatized, William is also Traumatized, framily, it's open to interpretation, lots and lots of emotions, lots and lots of friendship, so so much childhood trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydrogenHero2187/pseuds/HydrogenHero2187
Summary: Damien and Celine get another unexpected visitor in their small, wooded pocket of space and time, but, unlike Mark, they hadn't prepared for this one.(A.K.A. the D.A. (the reader) confronts the twins and they have a nice little chat about what happened and what's changed.)
Relationships: Celine | The Seer & Damien | The Mayor & Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, Damien | The Mayor & Y/N | The Distrct Attorney, Damien | The Mayor (Who Killed Markiplier?) & Mark Fischbach, Damien | The Mayor/Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?), Mark Fischbach/Reader
Series: Who Killed Markiplier? (And What The D.A. Is Going To Do About It) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566685
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	The Delicate Art of Staying and Leaving

Damien was running through the woods, following the sound of a woman yelling his name. He had thought it was Celine at first, but now he wasn’t sure. Blistering cold swirled around him, working tag-team with the gradually accumulating snow to slow his pace as daggers of wind sliced invisible cuts into his exposed skin. He remained undeterred, continuing to trudge until he reached a frozen lake. The voice (voices?) seemed to be echoing from the middle of it, and he started to pick up speed again with the power of terror and adrenaline.

“CELINE!!!!! STAY WHERE YOU ARE; I’M ALMOST THERE!!!!!” he shouted, nearing the center of the body of water. He hacked at the ice, and it started to shake, cracking even more as he reached the broken epicenter. An arm snaked up from the depths and latched onto his arm, showing its rotting face before pulling Damien down with it.

A voice brought him back to reality, but it wasn’t Celine’s or the other female’s. It was a man’s, deep and theatrical and familiar as his own, but who did it belong to..?

“Damien, Damien, Damien, you are a hard man to find!!” the voice spoke loudly, booming off of the walls and filling the area with sound.

“What? Who are you? Where's Celine?” he demanded, analyzing the male’s face and stature in an attempt to deduce who it was and how he knew him, because Damien knew for a _fact_ that this man was someone he was acquainted with.

"Now _there's_ a hard woman to avoid," the tuxedoed person commented with an odd mix of admiration and irritation in his tone.

Damien took a threatening step forward, his glare deepening. "If you did anything to her, I will-"

"Easy there, cowboy!" He held his hands up passively, looking completely unfazed despite the affliction in his words. "I've done nothing to her. I don't think I _could._ That woman would carve out my heart and _feed it_ to me if she so much as saw me." An almost wiftsul glaze passed over his eyes, as though that fate wasn't such a bad thing, and Damien shook his head in disgust and indignation.

"What? Then why am I here?! What do you want from me?!"

A small voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to just listen to the guy. Why was he so desperate to get back to chopping down trees anyway? Since when had that been a thing he'd cared about? (Whose influence was making him think these things?)

"Oh, Damien. My poor, sweet Damien. I've come to apologize!" His voice dripped with artificial sweetness and condescension, as though Damien was a child or a dog.

His brow furrowed. "Do.. Do I know you..?" The voice in his subconscious yelled at him that yes, you jackass, you knew him, but from where?

"Of course you know me. Dare I say you know me as well as you know you yourself." A chuckle left him, apparently amused at his own words. "Sorry, bad joke. I couldn't help it."

Why was that a bad joke? Why was that a joke at all? His head hurt as something fought to resurface and something else fought to keep it under. "I know you."

Exasperation started to leak into the man's voice. "Oh, come _on_ , Damien. Celine really did a number on you, didn't she?"

Wait. Wait a minute. The battle in his mind was starting to reach an end, old, dead things climbing out of the pool in his brain, and suddenly he knew.

"..Mark…?"

“And circle takes the square!!” Mark announced with an unpleasant grin on his face, dramatically pointing his (not his, _Damien’s_ ) cane at him. "Took you awhile, my friend, but you made it!"

"But that doesn't make any sense. We were just at your party and then we… were….. And then you.. and then Celine…" His previously repressed thoughts swarmed around him, clouding his ability to form coherent thoughts, and Mark took a few steps forward.

"Whoa there, easy boy! I'm gonna stop you right there, because I just don't have time for the whole 'catching up' thing."

_Again_ with the condescension. Damien growled under his breath. "No, you need to answer me! How did I get here?! Where even am I?!?"

"Whoa, hold on, okay, alright, I'll just summarize, and it's best by saying that mistakes were made. Plans weren't _exactly_ properly executed." The gray wall behind Mark lit up to show the scene they'd witnessed the day after the party, after walking into the living room and seeing Mark dead on the floor. "The right people started pointing fingers at the wrong people, aaaaand…." A gunshot echoed sharply through the void, causing Damien to wince, and Mark sidled up next to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder affectionately. "A good night with some good friends _may_ have taken a wrong turn at some point."

A thunderclap followed, and he became acutely aware of a distinct hole in his memory. The image slide show of the detective's dead body (oh no, Abe too?,) followed by William's half devastated, half maniacal face, and finished by Celine confirmed his notion, because he recognized all of them, but something (someone, maybe?) was missing still.

"And okay, I _may have_ made a deal to _possibly_ make sure a certain lady couldn't go around breaking anyone's heart ever again," Mark stepped away from him and continued while Damien was distracted, his voice becoming heavily distorted as the screen glowed a deep red, pulsing and cracking angrily. " _B_ ** _u_** T _T_ H ** _a_** _T_ ** _W_** A _s_ **D** _O_ i _N_ ** _G_** Ev ** _e_** _RY_ ** _On_** _E_ A **f** ** _A_** V _o_ ** _R_** _._ " He calmed, straightening his jacket. "But that's in the past. What matters now is moving forward, and oh, how _beautiful_ the future is going to be with _you_."

"You… you _murderer_.."

Mark's smile actually _grew._ "Oh please, you sound like that idiot detective. Come on, you're better than that; I don't need to hold your hand through all of this."

He was so tired. Not in the sense he needed to sleep, more like his mind was sick of remembering things someone had shoved down into the recesses of his thoughts. "Through all of _what_?! Just leave me alone!"

"You don't realize that this place is a dream- a never-ending starring role as the hero. But what's a hero without a villain..?"

This surprised him. "What..?"

An unnatural grin stretched across Mark's face. "A villain!! Every good story needs a villain!"

How could anyone be _this_ delusional?! It was mind-boggling how far up his own ass Mark was. "You _honestly think_ you're the _hero_ in all of this?!"

The actor laughed cheerfully, a jovial sound that resonated from his abdomen. It would've sounded lovely in any other situation from any other person in the world, but in _this_ situation from _this_ person it made Damien shudder. "Well, of course!! Who else could I possibly be?"

Quiet laughter of varying volumes and pitches seemed to sound from the cracking wall as Mark continued: "My humble upbringing, my tragic backstory, there's no other role for me to play!"

"You're out of your mind."

Mark ignored him once again. "Oh, you, _you_ are going to make the _perfect_ villain in my story!!"

Damien rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Uh huh, yeah, sure, that makes sense. Well, you can tell your story _all you want_ to the other prisoners."

"Oh, come _on_ , Damien, _let it go_!!" Irritation bled into his voice at Damien's continued defiance. " _Always_ the righteous crusader! Pure as the driven snow!" Annoyance turned to anger quickly. "Acting like you're the _only one_ without _blood on your hands._ "

"You took _everything_ from me!!" he yelled, finally snapping, and Mark snarled, walking down the left wall towards him and stumbling over something on the floor. A look of confusion appeared on his face, and he squatted down in front of the lumpy tarp, peeling it back to reveal something that made him gasp.

"Damien… Damien, Damien, _Damien_ … I think _you_ took everything from you.." he murmured, completely removing the rough plastic sheet to display the body of a female. She was curled around herself protectively, light auburn hair covering her face, and Damien felt sick. Was she…? Did Celine have something to do with this? Did _he_ have something to do with this?!

"Oh, thank the Lord she's alive," Mark commented, watching her chest rise and fall shallowly. "But still.. What did you _do_?!"

"I… I don't.."

"Wait." He looked at Damien, scrutinized his blank face. “You’re telling me you _honestly_ don’t recognize her?” Mark asked incredulously, all traces of amusement leaving his voice, which made Damien feel even more uneasy. “How is that possible?! Damien, she grew up with us! She was like a sister to William and I, Celine was her idol, you… you _loved_ her! We _all_ loved her, and now you don’t even know who she is?!? Damien, Damien, _Damien_ … What _happened_ to you??”

“I… I don’t…” Damien clutched his head as a pain shot through it, and the strange female rolled over to her side, wincing at the seemingly painful motion. Mark cautiously approached her, and smiled when he confirmed it was indeed who he thought it was. Scooping her up like she was a puppy in a pet store, he held her out in front of him to scan her features.

“She looks exactly the same as she did when we were children…” he murmured, completely ignoring Damien on the other side of the room. “William used to walk home from school alone- he was always ... eccentric, and it scared people- but she changed that.. You were bullied in fourth grade; do you remember that? She stopped them, because for as patient and tiny as she was, she was goddamn terrifying when she was angry. That was the only time I’ve been afraid as well as the only time I’ve ever seen her that upset, even in university. Even Celine was scared, and that’s next to impossible. You really don’t remember _any_ of it..?” When the other male shook his head, Mark sighed and held the girl like an infant, arranging her carefully for a purpose Damien couldn’t identify. Was it to keep her asleep? To make sure she stayed comfortable?

A sensation like an itch started to spark at the back of his head, and his level of uncomfortability increased, but not in the same way as before. His arms stretched out slightly, and his voice was authoritative and low when he spoke, “Give her to me. Please.”

“Now why on _earth_ would I do that?” came the almost amiable reply of Mark, his smile large but feral. “You can’t even tell me who she is! That doesn’t exactly set good grounds for your request, my friend.”

“You _ruined_ people’s _lives_ !!!” Damien shot back, anger building in his tone. “You’re the _last_ person who should be near her!”

“And tell me again, who, exactly, is ‘her’?” the actor questioned in a fake lilt of confusion. “Would you like to phone a friend for help? Come on, I’m _sure_ it’s in there _somewhere_ ~! Dig deep! Poke around up there, Mister Mayor; see what you can pull back up to the surface!!”

A series of coughs broke them out of their dialogue, and their attentions snapped to the mysterious female in Mark’s grasp, who was now sitting up as best she could and trying to expel something from her lungs. She paused for a moment to look around blearily, and her eyes landed first on the man holding her.

“Mark…? ‘S that you..?” she asked hoarsely, and a frustrated frown appeared on Damien’s face; he _knew_ that voice. It was high pitched, feminine, and even in its currently adjusting state it carried a little ring to it, as though all of her spoken words were but notes in a melody, and it grated at him despite its sweetness, because it was so achingly familiar and yet….

Mark smiled, and he was surprised to see that it was genuine this time. “It is indeed, my dear.. Oh my, oh my, how time flies; how have you been since this whole ordeal began? How has Celine been treating you, since it seems our dear, dear friend over there has amnesia?”

At the mention of Celine, the girl tensed before dissolving into another round of racking coughs, and this time drops of blood accompanied them; finally, she spit something out into her hand and grimaced, and Damien audibly gasped when he realized the object was a bullet. Both Mark and the strange woman turned to look at him, and, at the unobscured sight of her face, the former politician stumbled backwards as the memories came flooding back into his mind: playing tag as kids and feeling awful when he had to tag her, walking home from school and talking about her latest epiphany, spending winter nights watching movies and drinking _way_ too much coffee in college, helping her move boxes into her new office when she was elected district attorney, how _terrified_ he’d been when Celine forced her to go into that hellscape of a dream world, tricking her out of her physical body just like Mark had done with him because..

Breaths came in short, fleeting bursts, and he struggled to compose himself as emotions hit him like a freight train. Mark only grinned lethally:

“I knew you could figure it out!! Do you remember now?”

Tormented brown eyes pleadingly met pained (Y/E/C), and Damien took a shaky step forward, still extending his wavering arms towards the pair in front of him. “Let me have her. _Please._ ” He smiled shakily at her, barely keeping himself composed. “You remember me, don’t you..? You remember who I am…?”

“God, I’ve been out for so long….” she mumbled, brushing (Y/H/C) hair out of her face so she could really look at him, and a choke caught in her throat. “D-”

A cracking sound resonated behind Mark, and shards of ice flew into the large, dark room, causing the actor to turn his back, protectively shielding the girl from the blast. When the dust settled, Celine walking in, holding Damien’s axe; spinning back around, Mark smiled at her,

“Ah, Celine-”

He was cut off by her hatchet slicing a bloody gash in his chest, and he started to laugh demonically, morphing into a monster of smoke and horrible choices before disappearing. The woman walked right past the smaller female lying where Mark had once been and stopped near Damien. “Are you alright?”

“You shut your fucking mouth right fucking now, Celine, or I swear to God, I will tie you down, rip this hatchet right out of my fucking shoulder, and use it to hack you into pieces no bigger than the tip of my finger, and I have _really_ small hands,” she interjected, sitting up once again and showing them the weapon embedded in her torso.

“ _Excuse me_?!” Celine responded, whirling around incredulously before falling short, her hands cupping her open mouth in shock. “Oh my _God_.. But how.. wha- ?”

Damien, aghast, ran towards his old friend, kneeling beside her. “Good Lord, are you alright?!? Let me help you-”

Waving him off, she shook her head. “No, I got this.” She wrapped her hands around the wooden shaft and pulled in short bursts until it came out with a sickening crunch, but no blood accompanied it; instead, a soft golden light radiated from the area, and the deep wound started to stitch itself back together. With a hard flinch, she stood, bracing herself on the wall, and Damien stood with her, his expression one of vast concern.

“What are you doing?! Stop moving! I can carry you!!” he exclaimed, and when she continued her unsteady ambling, he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes tightly. He had forgotten how much he _hated_ seeing her in pain, especially now that she was trying to get away from… from _him_. “ _(Y/N)_ . Please, look at me!” When she didn’t respond again, he grabbed her uninjured shoulder and forced her to look at him, his glassy gaze locking onto hers. “ _STOP IT._ You are _hurting_ yourself, and I _can’t_ watch you do that, I just can’t. So please, let me..”

“ _No._ ” (Y/N) said sharply, pulling away. “I can do this by myself, and I _will_ do this by myself.”

An angry breath huffed from his nose, and he looked at Celine, motioning with his eyes for her to stand behind their old friend. “Why are you doing this?! Just _stop it_ and let me-” He reached for her again, and she stepped back, yelping at the searing pain shooting from her arm. Damien was close to tears, and he felt her agony like it was his own, both physical and mental; it _hurt_ him to see her like this, and it hurt even more to be pushed away when he could assist her. Mark was absolutely right: he _did_ love her. He loved her with every fiber of his being, more than all the atoms in the universe, and she was _suffering,_ and he _wished_ she would just- 

“ _LET ME HELP YOU,_ ” he yelled, and she paused, only to be grabbed by Celine; she started to shake and wrenched free, the motion pushing her forward to land on the stone ground, her knees and elbows breaking most of the fall. She didn’t stand back up or roll over; she just stayed there, lowering her forehead to the ground and curling her arms around her body tightly as her trembling worsened.

Worried, both twins approached her again, but they stopped in their tracks when she sniffled.

“I know what you’re thinking. ‘She didn’t use to be like this,’ and ‘Stop being ungrateful,’ and other shit like that. It’s clear as day, and I’m sorry I can’t be the same right now.”

“Why are you doing this? What could possibly be your reasoning behind _insisting_ to move around with an _axe wound_ in your shoulder?!” Damien inquired, and (Y/N) snapped, a black outline pulsing around her as she finally looked up at them. (Mark had been able to do that too, hadn’t he..?)

“The last time I accepted help from you, you bastards _stole my body and trapped me in a fucking mirror._ You said you were going to bring me back, and instead you imprisoned me behind a wall of glass so you could _galavant around_ like a couple of back-stabbing motherfuckers in _my body_ to get revenge on Mark, who did the _exact same fucking thing to you_. I _trusted you,_ Damien, and you and Celine were behind the ultimate betrayal all along. How can I forgive that? How do you expect me to be okay with that?! And Celine, you’re an occultist; you knew _exactly_ what you were doing when you pushed me out! I idolized you, I’ve known both of you for my _entire life,_ and it’s like that meant _nothing_ to you as long as you could get what you wanted from me! Celine, you’re the reason I was unconscious here in the first place! I was in the woods, calling for help, calling for _you_ , and I was so happy when I found you, but you must not have been, because you saw me and then _shot me._ _Three fucking times._ ” A bullet hole appeared in her abdomen, another near her ribs, and a final one above her diaphragm where the shots hit, and Damien gaped at his sister. “Then, you _dragged_ me back to your stupid cabin and instead of making sure I was alright, you put me on the floor under a tarp so no one would know what you did.” A series of scratches and bruises began to show on her face and arms, and they travelled under her clothes to her stomach, legs, and back. Drag marks, rug burns, abrasions, the list could go on. “Not to mention the _axe._ ” The infamous gash sliced open once again down her upper torso. “All you’ve done is hurt me this whole goddamn time, and I can’t… I can’t do that anymore. I came here to find you because I care about you two, and this is what I’ve gotten in return.” She hesitated, starting to waver, and it broke Damien’s heart. “I never asked for much, just the occasional hug; I might be low in the self-esteem department, but I know enough to say with absolute certainty that this wasn’t because of something I did, and I can’t..” Her hand came up to press over her mouth as she tried to suppress her emotions. “I _love_ you, and I thought you loved me, but that’s not how love works. _This,_ ” she gestured to her body. “Is not what love looks like, and you know that as well as I do, and I-” Her voice broke off into a small sob, and what was left of his soul shattered as he watched her.

Celine spoke first, her face pale and her eyes mortified at her own actions. She didn’t try to touch (Y/N), but she never looked away from her. “You’re right. You’re _always_ right, (Y/N), and I… I am so, so sorry for proving you wrong. I didn’t… I thought you were Mark. That’s what I’ve been doing all day, every day since we got in here- looking for him- and I thought he was using your image to force me to let my guard down, so I just... I never imagined that it would actually be you… I am so, so, so sorry, (Y/N).”

Her voice drifted off, and she lowered her eyes to the ground in shame; Damien stood there next to her, frozen and absolutely _terrified_. What could he say to that? What could he _possibly say_ to make a difference compared to all of the _horrific_ things he had done? How could he ever fix it, especially with something as frail and worthless as the spoken word?

“I….” he started to say, voice quiet and unsure. A lump built in his throat, and he swallowed it down to speak again, more determined this time. “I know nothing I do will ever change what we did. What I did. And I understand that. I’m surprised you’re even letting us talk at all, considering everything that happened. I can’t blame it on Mark or William or even Celine; this was my fault, and I owe you an explanation if I can’t provide anything else.” Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair. “When Mark stole my body, I was… God, I was so angry. I swear to you that I wasn’t trying to steal yours; I never meant to trap you in that mirror, love, you have to believe me; I only wanted you safe, but I didn’t think that we would... I’ve only ever been that angry once before, and…” She gently cupped his face, and he helplessly trailed off, dropping his gaze with a shuddering exhale and placing his hand over hers. When he finally grew the courage to look at her, he was near tears, desperate to explain himself so she wouldn’t leave them. (Oh god, what would he do then? How could he live with that? With the knowledge that he had driven her away from him forever? He’d never been without her before, and he vowed that if _somehow_ this all went right, he would never let her out of his sight again.)

“I remember the time you’re talking about,” (Y/N) mused quietly, thoughtfully, without a smile on her face. “It was in college, during the week of finals our second year. The people in my Advanced Theoretical Thinking class were harassing me because I was the only one with an A. They accused me of cheating, of sleeping with the professor, and they took it too far, and I came back to my dorm that evening looking fine until I got inside.”

Celine’s lips quirked upwards in a small, bloodthirsty hint of a grin, knowing full well where the story was headed and loving every second of the build-up. ((Y/N), after all, had always been the best storyteller of their group.) “You didn’t see me until I came up to you when you slumped against the door and started crying. You had the audacity to tell me you were okay and that everything was fine, but I said I still had to tell the boys, and I vividly remember how scared you looked when you tried to dissuade me.”

“It didn’t work.” (Y/N) continued, seeming to fall back into herself as she went on, and Damien held her hands tighter, as though it would keep her tethered to reality. “You wrapped me in a blanket, tossed me over your shoulder, positioned me on the couch, and made me explain what happened. You were so angry, Celine, but you stayed calm for me so I could get it all off my chest, and then you made me tea and put on one of the longest Disney movies we knew of, and you waited until I was asleep to leave, and then you told them.”

He remembered that all too well. He was in the kitchen, and Mark and William were in the living room of their dorm room watching some kind of sport while drinking and laughing, and suddenly Celine was in the entrance (when was the last time any of them had even seen her?,) screaming bloody murder about something he couldn’t quite hear, but he did catch ‘bullies,’ ‘crossed the line,’ and ‘(Y/N),’ and when he joined his two companions in front of her, he was already seeing red.

**~*~** **Flashback Time** **~*~**

“They did _WHAT_?!?!” Mark seethed, strengthening his hold on the beer bottle until it shattered all over the floor. “Have they lost their _minds_?! Did they assume we wouldn’t _find out_?!??”

“Those… those…. Those low-down, snake-eyed, yellow-bellied, dirt-scavenging, motherfucking, back-stabbing _BASTARDS_!!!!!!” William yelled, pacing around the area and holding his hands out in front of him like he was strangling someone already. “Do they have stones for brains?! We can certainly find that out; I have a few new pistols I’ve been meaning to break in..”

Damien had always been the most like (Y/N): cool, patient, and empathetic, always slow to anger, but now? Now, he was trembling with heraldic fury, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as he thought about how upset his female counterpart must be, how confused and devastated and _hurt_ because of a few small-minded individuals with jealous souls and cruel tongues and disgusting hands that needed to be removed _now_. You see, something had happened to their dear friend when they were young, and it changed her, but she had fought to overcome those negative effects as much as possible as they grew older, had fought and scratched and clawed her way out of the depths of her trauma, and now all of her hard-earned progress was destroyed, decimated, ruined because of a few ignorant, misogynist _idiots_ who took something awful to begin with _way_ too far. 

Guilt coiled a strand in his mind; he didn’t do anything to help her, and he was on campus at the time, but he swore to avenge her and pay recompense for his mistakes. For his inability to protect her. He would fix that. He would make sure something like this didn’t happen again to someone that belonged to him, to them.

“They must be taught a lesson so they can be introduced to ethics and justice,” Damien said cooly, his voice too dulcet to be sincere. Ice lined his words, and he straightened his jacket, completely and utterly expressionless, almost nonchalantly so. “They must pay a penance worthy of their crimes. We can assist this process; after all, (Y/N) is our friend, and therefore it is our duty to her to rehabilitate these people.”

“Of course; it’s only fair that we aid their recovery,” Mark replied, a dark smile growing on his face. “It’s our contribution to society. Besides, we owe it to (Y/N); she would want us to help them, and we’re nothing if not loyal and respectful to our dearest friend.”

William smirked, walking to the door and tugging on his coat. “I know their building. It’s not more than three blocks from here; shall we set off in the name of ‘healing?’ ”

Celine watched as they all filed towards the exit. “Should I tell her about this?”

All three males turned to look at her with matching expressions of incredulity and disgust, and Celine remembered that they really did know (Y/N) better than she did. She had always been the irresponsible, disappearing friend of their group, and while they never shunned her or treated her differently because of her aloof nature, they did become more attached to (Y/N) than they had to her because of it. (Granted, she knew both William and Mark were romantically attracted to her, and she didn’t doubt that all of them would take a bullet for her, but (Y/N) was their collective object of a different kind of affection, their _un petit,_ and she knew with absolute certainty that they would destroy the world and everything in it and then put all of it back together for her. Mark and William would never want to marry her- she couldn’t say the same about Damien; her little brother might hold more feelings for their friend- but they would never leave her on her own, ever, no matter what. Celine had never seen any of them so angry, especially Damien, but it made sense that it was for (Y/N).

“Are you _insane_?!” Mark said, paling slightly. “We can _never_ tell her about _any_ of the things we do at that dorm. She would _murder us_!!! We would _lose_ her _forever_!!”

William nodded in agreement, looking slightly less nonchalant than usual as he adjusted his jacket nervously. “That, or she would die or something, and we can’t have that. She would never want someone to be hurt because of her, even if she was completely in the right and they deserve every bit of the punishment they get. Everything we’re going to do must stay secret, unless we want to lose our friend.”

Celine glanced at her brother, reading his face as best she could. It was worrying her how absolutely _furious_ he looked. His anger had always been unique to him, but that only made it all the more terrifying, because unlike the rest of the world who possessed red-hot, explosive anger, Damien had frigid, frostbitten rage that had the control and destructive properties of a computer-guided missile; he could wreak more havoc and chaos while maintaining the ability to manipulate its effects with his special, frozen rancor than someone with the common type of fiery passion. It would be more dangerous if he was prone to such aggressive feelings, but he wasn’t at all, his boiling point in the thousands, and so to see him so incensed was almost miraculous. (It was funny, actually. (Y/N) was the only one able to cool her customary rage to calm and turn his constant passiveness to absolute wrath, but it wasn’t worth her being hurt for such a switch to occur.)

“Mark and William are correct; this must be done in complete confidence. Are you alright with that, Celine?”

She nodded, and went back to (Y/N)’s, opening the door quietly and dusting the snow off of her boots before shutting it in the same manner. The girl was still sleeping, poor dear, and she had curled herself into a ball under the thick blanket, shaking slightly. Walking over to her, Celine started to stroke her hair gently, cooing under her breath to help calm her down. Despite her rather unreliable nature, Celine really did care for (Y/N), and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about going with the boys to teach those assholes a lesson, but it was clear she was needed with their friend. After all, she had other ways to knock some sense into them.

Damien entered the dorm an hour later, looking impeccable as always, aside from a small split on his knuckles. Hanging his coat on a hook in the foyer, he sat next to his twin, watching (Y/N) breathe unsteadily and twitch. Trembling had always been a quirk of hers, or at least it had been since her mind went to hell when they were thirteen. He took her to one of her therapy appointments when they were sixteen (he could drive before she could,) and the psychiatrist said the quick, repetitive movement helped relieve pent-up anxiety; he appreciated that it helped her, but seeing her doing it made his heart clench because it was a tell that something was wrong.

“I can watch her,” he said in a low voice to his sister, a small smile playing on his lips even though he was fully aware this would most likely be the last time he’d see her in months. She mirrored his expression, standing up and lightly touching his shoulder before suiting back up for the cold weather and leaving the dorm. He stared at his friend, not really focusing on her as he zoned out. It hadn’t taken long to enact their avengeance; the morons at fault were fortunately cowards on top of dullards, but it was more than fair to claim that they would never terrorize another person ever again. Unconsciously, his hand found hers and curled around it as he pondered, and a jolt followed by a small squeeze brought him back to the present.

“Damien…?” (Y/N) mumbled, her heartbeat going crazy as she prayed it was him, and he let out a shaky breath, pulling her to his chest in a tight hug, nodding.

“It’s me, love, it’s just me. It’s Damien,” he replied, feeling her calm down. A lump started to build in his throat, and he shoved it down as best he could before saying what he had wanted to for quite a while: “I… I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from them. I should’ve been more vigilant, more attentive to the people in your classes, and I didn’t even realize they had been harassing you the whole semester. Christ, you worked _so hard_ to get to a point where you were almost comfortable, and my mistake caused… I’m so, so sorry.”

Shifting, she looked him in the eye solemnly. “Damien, this isn’t your fault. You can’t keep blaming yourself for all of it; it is not and was not your fault, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about any of it. No one could’ve stopped either incident- not Celine, not William, not Mark, not even you.”

She stood and took a few steps away from him, heading towards the kitchen, and he quickly rose as well.

“Wha- But _you_ blame yourself for the incident!!” he said indignantly, and (Y/N) stopped, a sigh escaping her like a deflating balloon.

“That’s… different.”

“How?! How is you blaming yourself for what happened any different than me blaming myself?!?” Damien exclaimed, walking towards her.

The female wrapped her arms around herself, curling her shoulders in ever-so slightly. “I was there, Damien. It happened to me; I could’ve stopped it, or I could’ve said something the first time it happened, or…”

Grabbing her shoulder, he spun her around to face him. “ _I was there, too_ !!! I was there, (Y/N). I was on that bus every time that bastard… and I did _nothing_. I was no more than a few seats away from you, and I didn’t even look backwards to see if you were doing okay. I could’ve helped you, all of us could’ve, so _stop_ being such a hypocrite and quit putting all the blame on yourself!” When she opened her mouth to speak, he took her hand again and finished in a gentler voice, “Either we’re all at fault, or none of us are, including you.”

She hesitated, struggling to find something to say as droplets fell from her eyes, and he smiled, tucking her under his chin and wrapping his arms around her again.

“Why didn’t you tell me that they were hurting you? Why didn’t you tell _us_? We could’ve protected you from them- Mark, William, even Celine!! We would all _kill_ for you, my dear, you know that, right? We love you more than you could ever fathom; why didn’t you say something?” he asked softly, keeping her in his arms. He wavered, grimacing before continuing in an even quieter voice, “Did we do something..? Did _I_ -”

“No, God, Damien, no, you didn’t do anything! None of you did anything!! I just…” She inhaled deeply, steeling herself. “I knew that if I told you, you’d… I didn’t want anyone to be hurt because of me.”

“But why?” he pressed. “They hurt you! It’s only fair they be hurt too! That’s justice, (Y/N), and you of all people deserve it.”

“Is is justice, or is it vengeance, Damien?” she asked lightly, a little, comforting smile on her face as she slipped around him and into the kitchen. “An eye for an eye is justice, but it’s never that simple, is it?”

He desperately tried to come up with a rebuttal to no avail, and he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “We never should have let you take any philosophy classes. Your rationalism was strong enough before without any help. I can only imagine how your existentialism must be faring at this point.”

“Your feeble mind couldn’t even begin to imagine how strong her metaphysics game has become,” Mark’s voice chimed from the foyer, walking into the living room with a light dusting of snow in his hair. “We had philosophy together this semester, and she almost melted my brain with the extent of her comprehension of the nonphysical, theoretical, and all-around ridiculously advanced bullshit we learned in that class. It was really quite remarkable. The government would be right to snatch her away for future use.”

A snort of laughter escaped Damien, and he grinned at his friend. “You say that like she’s an asset to be used in war times, Mark. Did William come with you as well?” A loud crash from the entranceway confirmed his question, and they all chuckled. “He took that class, too, didn’t he? I remember you saying his advisor strongly disagreed with that decision because-”

“Because my mind is too ‘fragile,’” William finished, shaking off a scarf from his boot as he finally made his way into the room. “The audacity of some people, _REALLY_. My mind is like a steel trap! Nothing gets past me, as we all know,”

“Well, actually-” Mark tried to interject, only to be silenced with a louder,

“ _AS WE ALL KNOW_ , Damien. Now, where’s my _prétendre femme_?” He looked around expectantly, and Damien glared at the back of his head.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Why do you call her that? You don’t even know French, and she’s not just yours. I could call her my pretend wife just as easily as you could. At least Damien and I can speak the language; you just use it to aggravate him, Will, and I think he might have a conniption if you don’t stop.”

“Nonsense!! I call her that because of that party we went to together in the city! We could only get in by saying we were a couple, and here we are now still using the nicknames for each other!!” the male replied jovially, beaming when (Y/N) walked back into the room with a matching grin. He hugged her tightly, swinging her around twice like couples did in old movies. “ _Prétendre femme_!!! It’s wonderful to see you again!!!!”

“ _Faux mari_!! A pleasure, as always,” she responded, giggling slightly at the stunned faces of her two oher companions. “What? We’re allowed to have fun, too! Just because we’re the embarrassments of the group doesn’t mean we have to hide in dark corners and empty rooms, waiting to be called upon.”

Her last comment shocked them, the twinge of sadness in her voice not going unnoticed, and Mark and Damien exchanged matching looks of dismay. Damien made the first move, stepping forward slowly and glancing between (Y/N) and William.

“Is that really what you think…?” he asked softly, making sure to analyze every detail about them, from their faces to their body language to their auras. “William, (Y/N), we don’t… God, _no one_ thinks you’re embarrassments.. We’ve _never_ thought that about you, either of you! Why would we.. You’re both _so_ important to us, all of us, and we _never_ want you to feel like you’re not deeply loved and cared for, because you are.” He looked to Mark for help, and the aspiring actor followed his lead:

“I don’t mean it lightly when I say that both of you are absolutely essential to our little family structure; without you, it would be lifeless and colorless, because that’s what you are. Yes, Damien and Celine and myself are exciting, mildly interesting individuals, but you two are so very, very unique- one of a kind, I’d even say. You both bring so much vibrance and sincerity and animation that people would be right to steal you away from us, because no one can provide the kind of verve and vitality you can. It’s like caffeine or L.S.D.: once you get a taste of its vigor, you’re hooked forever. Genuinely, all of us love you so, so much; why would you think otherwise..? Did we do something…?”

This was one of the few times they had ever seen William hesitate, and it only scared them more as he spared a look at (Y/N), slipping her hand into his, before speaking slowly and carefully, “It’s not about what you do, per say; it’s more about what you _don’t_ do, if that makes any sense. As in, you say you’re loyal, and you care, but behind closed doors, you just smile and laugh and nod along with stories of our eccentricity. Everyone knows that one of the main reasons (Y/N) doesn’t go to parties is because it’s a universal frat achievement to sleep with her, even if it’s done through unsavory means. Everyone knows that I’m... unstable, and you’re a freak if you so much as look at me, because I’m contagious or something. That’s why we go together when you two are off with your more normal friends: I can protect her from the evils of mankind, and she can make me feel like I exist for a reason other than to be laughed at. It’s a good dynamic we have going on!” He laughed shakily, an equally unsteady smile trying to stay put on his lips as he kissed the back of her hand. “It’s a dynamic we’ve always had, I suppose, but it’s had to be more lately.” Closing his eyes against the horror-filled faces of Damien and Mark, his grin grew and somehow became even more heartbroken, wavering helplessly on his face. “I’m happy you’re both doing so well here, truly. I’m so, so happy for you, and I wish you all the best the world has to offer, but we’ve reached a point where I can’t help but think we should go our separate ways. We’re only holding you back, and I know you both care ever-so much, but saying you care and actually caring are two different things. We beat up those bastards that hurt (Y/N) as an afterthought because we didn’t care enough to ask her why she had been so blue lately; I think that, if nothing else, shows where our priorities are.”

The pain was visible on his face as he spoke, jaw clenching as tightly as his shut eyes, and all of the breath left Damien’s lungs as he processed what William had just said. He wanted to… to split up? To stop being friends? _Forever_?! It was an inconceivable concept to him; they’d _always_ been together, from the time they were infants, barely able to babble nonsense words. When William’s parents had abandoned him for the simplicity of drugs and alcohol, Mark and his family had stepped in to care for him, and the three of them had only grown closer as a result of that. They’d turned two the year (Y/N)’s family moved into their subdivision, just approaching two and a half when she was born, and she’d been welcomed into their group with open arms. They defended her from assholes who’d picked on her after she’d skipped a grade to be with the rest of them; they’d been ecstatic, regardless of the other bastards in their grade who correlated her shy, quiet genius with pretentiousness. When their families started drifting off to their various states of dysfunctionality, they depended on each other for support, weaving themselves into their own little family unit of sorts, both out of necessity and out of habit; after all, clustering even closer together like penguins in extreme cold had been their main solution for most problems their entire lives. It made sense to be that way, to operate like that. 

Damien knew exactly when they had started to crumble, and whose fault it had been, even though none of them would ever say it out loud; Celine, the ever unapproachable older sister of the group, had mixed herself up with the wrongest-of-the-wrong crowd their junior year, and they tried to talk with her about it, subtly at first with small pokes and prompts and questions, and then more straightforwardly, the event climaxing with a full-blown interrogation that escalated into the biggest fight any of them had ever seen, none of them backing down until Celine had stormed out and returned a week later to collect her belongings. Damien was crushed, and he knew the rest of them felt the same way. That was also when (Y/N) had to step up with her role as the glue of their circle, and they all knew that it took a significant toll on her as more and more time passed, and now here they were, in college, and no one had even thought to ask how she was faring with it all. No one cared, but not in the sense that they didn’t love her; they all just assumed she could handle it like she handled everything else without considering that maybe she was suffering under the pressure of school, her own trauma, plans for the future, how she was going to make money while paying back what little student debt she still had, and holding their make-shift family together. These were _massive_ weights on her shoulders, and they could’ve taken some of the load off of her, but they didn’t. They hadn’t even asked. Come to think of it, they hadn’t asked William how he was feeling either; they never had, not even after his third psych eval in two months, not even after he’d received word that his parents had died while in the custody of a psychiatric hospital in Washington. They just kept going with their lives without waiting the four seconds it took to ensure they hadn’t left anyone behind, and in their haste, they had. They had left two people behind, far, far behind. So far, in fact, that those two people, the two most determined, optimistic people they knew, had given up on the hope of ever catching back up. It didn’t make sense to Damien, but at the same time it made all too much; they’d always been so tightly-knit that they never considered ever being any other way, never considered how the strain would affect those of them who were trying, had always been frantically, frenetically trying, to hold them all together, and now they were in college, standing across from each other in a dormitory living room, about to lose the only sure family any of them had ever had.   


Mark looked as devastated as he did, and Damien desperately put his hands on William and (Y/N)’s shoulders, his breathing too fast and too inconsistent to get any oxygen into his body. He didn’t say anything for a long while, just stared helplessly at the faces of his friends as he tried to think of something to say, _anything_ to say to fix it all. William opened his eyes, the most sincere smile any of them had ever seen blooming on his face like a cherry tree in the middle of a hurricane, and he caught Damien’s glassy gaze, resting his hand on the shorter male’s arm gently.

“It’s okay, old friend. You can let us go. We’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay,” he said tenderly, his entire being radiating his usual glow of warmth and happiness in a way that reminded the law student of how people looked before they died, that distinctive, spaced-out, blissful glimmer of coming to terms that even a blind man could see.

He looked at (Y/N) only to find the same energy, and she gave him a lopsided grin that he hadn’t seen in years. He wished it had stayed that way; it felt all too much like this would be the last he would ever see of her, and this was her parting gift- one last glimpse at a beam only she had ever been able to create.

In a burst of frustration, he shook his head and angrily combed a hand through his hair. “No, it’s not okay!!!! What about this is okay to you?! I made a _huge_ mistake, and I can’t… I don’t have time to fix it, and I just….. Please, tell me how to fix it. How can I fix this, William, please, you have to tell me how I can fix it, I _need_ to fix it, and I don’t have any time, and I can’t let you leave, _PLEASE._ ” His voice cracked with raw emotion, and he slumped powerlessly as the full gravity of the situation set in, sapping all of the strength from his muscles.

With a quiet, sympathetic “tsk,” William pulled Damien into a hug, letting him rest his head on his shoulder and rubbing his back softly. “There’s no need to be sad, Damien; it’s alright. It’s alright. You’re going to do so splendidly, my friend, and I wish you all the best. You’ll make a fantastic politician, giving speeches and going to fancy dinner parties and making friends with the socially elite- you’ll have a blast!!” His tone softened, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way they always did when he was smiling. “I hope you have the time of your life, my friend.”

“None of that is worth doing without you both there with me,” Damien whispered, physically incapable of raising his volume because of the lump in his throat. “You and (Y/N) and Mark are _all I have left,_ and I don’t care what happens: I _refuse_ to let you waltz out of my life like you never mattered to me, because you _do_ , and _I need you here._ I’m so, so sorry I let things get this bad, but please, please, _please_ don’t do this. Don’t do what Celine did. I don’t… I don’t think I could handle it.” (Y/N) shifted next to them, a small sniffle leaving her little nose, and Damien turned to look at her tear-stained face before tugging her into the hug. “I love you both so, so much, and in the end it’s your choice to leave and go on your own paths away from us, but if you can find it in your hearts to just… _stay_ , I implore you to do so. Please.” He squeezed them tighter, beads of water leaking from his eyes. “Just _stay_.”

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around his torso comfortingly and looked over her shoulder at Mark, who had been standing there awkwardly the whole time so Damien could work his magic, and motioned him towards her, allowing William to yank him into the embrace as well.

“Will you stay then, or are you going to break out hearts?” Mark asked in a forced casual voice, genuine fear stashed behind the false nonchalance. He was stiff with anxiety, and his hands shook even as they clenched the loose fabric of (Y/N)’s sweatshirt in a death grip

A small laugh brushed past William’s lips, the sound resembling the wind when it wound through the soft, flexible boughs of a willow tree. “I think we’ll hang around a bit longer; what do you think?”

(Y/N) nodded in agreement, and Damien let out a sob of relief, dropping his face to the crook of her neck and sinking to the floor, boneless with gratitude. The other three followed his lead to maintain their group hug, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

They parted later, William untangling himself from the rest of them to make a pot of tea, which he explained in a soft, patient voice when both Damien and (Y/N) whipped around to stare at him with variations of the same wide-eyed expression of fear. Before he left for the kitchen, however, he helped them up and walked them to seats in the living room; first, he guided a slightly dazed Mark to one of the armchairs, which was positioned far enough from the couch to give him personal space to relax but close enough to reach the others if he felt that he needed reassurance of some kind. He tried to escort (Y/N) after that only to be stopped by Damien, who had latched himself to her adamantly and met his gaze with a pleading look, so he did the sensible thing and took them both at the same time, easily lifting her up with one arm and wrapping the other one around Damien’s shoulders securely. He settled them on the sofa, grabbing a blanket and tucking them under it in an uncharacteristically unhurried fashion, doing the same for Mark while lighting a few of the lavender-scented candles Celine had sent at some point, probably in a package without a note or return address. A wave of irritation passed over him, but he shook it off stoically; he had more important things to worry about than her capricious, undependable, morally-dubious nature. If she wanted to be higher on his to-do list, she shouldn’t have made herself so scarce. 

Flicking off the harsh ceiling lights and clicking on the lamp near one of the bookshelves, William smiled in satisfaction at the cozy, safe ambiance he had created for his friends, and with one last backwards glance he made his way into the kitchen. He remembered doing this kind of thing before, and he frowned at the mental image of how scared Damien had looked just a few moments ago when he’d attempted to take (Y/N). It distinctly reminded him of when they’d found out she cut; it hadn’t been intentional, coming back an hour early from class to find her rinsing blood off her arm in the bathroom sink, but he suspected that the universe had wanted them to find out, even on accident, because they’d _never_ have figured it out on their own. (She’d always been smarter than them, and she was exceptional at cleaning up her tracks; it was foolish of them to think such behavior didn’t extend into her more unhealthy habits.) When they confronted her with panic bubbling in their throats, words flooding endlessly from their mouths as they searched for any string of phrases that would get her to put the pair of scissors down, she’d scowled, twisting the blade painfully in the long slice while muttering that she should’ve been smarter, and William had counted seven similar scars on the back of her forearm that he’d never noticed before. In the end, it had been Damien who brought her back off of the ledge, Damien who coaxed out the details of such behavior (she’d been cutting for six years, and she did it not because she wanted to die but because the pain was the only thing strong enough to pull her out of a flashback. She needed the sharp, piercing sensation to feel something other than sadness and anger and terror, and it broke his heart,) and Damien who wrapped up the gashes on her hands and arm. He’d refused to leave her for days afterwards, a haunted sheen coating his eyes, and William knew it was because he’d nearly lost her to herself and to that pair of dissection scissors, akin to the ones they’d used in their high school anatomy class, and the same dull gleam glossed his vision as he sat by her on the couch in the other room. 

He wished he could protect them, all of them, the thought sending a sharp ache through his chest as he absentmindedly scrolled through the sea of tea bags in the cabinets. There were so many things he wished he’d been able to prevent and/or change in their lives: Mark’s negligent family, his own alcoholic, crack-head parents, the fight with Celine junior year, Damien’s bullies, every bus ride when they were little, the list went on and on. He knew that he couldn’t change the past; no one could. What’s done is done, no matter how badly he wanted to correct things. A small smile flitted across his face at the thought of actually being able to shield them from future unfortunate events, and he decided the whole idea of it was likely due to Damien’s influence on his thoughts- Damien and (Y/N) and their selfless obsession to help people. The compulsion was unique to them, and it was a borderline addiction, but it was a trait William didn’t mind absorbing from them. It was better than getting Damien’s depression or (Y/N)’s posttraumatic stress disorder.

William was unashamed to admit he knew their favorite kinds of tea. He actually took a sense of pride from it, from being able to distinguish what blend they needed to achieve the results they wanted. Mark needed Earl Gray and bergamot to sleep, strangely enough, which worked best when paired with the dark lavender honey he always got from the summer farmer’s market. Damien liked lighter teas- the peppermints and chamomiles and floras- with way too much honey for his throat. Not surprisingly, Celine preferred strong black tea, like oolongs and breakfast blends, but when they were children she only let them drink hot chocolate. (He suspected she wasn’t using leaves for just tea-making anymore, as much as it pained him to say.) He and (Y/N) had a similar taste for green teas, although he enjoyed fruity, matcha kinds where she picked jasmines and roses, and she often drank them very, very quickly when she was stressed or nervous, confessing that she would rather burn her mouth than slip up and drink something stronger. (Addiction was a leading cause of death and all-around dysfunction in her family, and, having parents with the same problems, it became one of the major reasons the two of them had grown so close.)

Balancing the precariously placed mugs on a long tray, he walked slowly into the living room, laughing quietly at the sight. Mark had abandoned his spot on the recliner and joined Damien and (Y/N) on the couch, and they were sleeping in a little pile, Damien curled around (Y/N) and Mark wrapped around both of them protectively, holding one of the blankets over them. Being careful not to disturb them, William set the tray down on the coffee table and smiled as he tried to engrave the image into his mind for when his psyche started to crumble again; turning, he started to walk towards the exit when something caught his sleeve, keeping him stationary. Brow furrowed, he looked over his shoulder to see Mark, his hand encircling his wrist with a steady grip.

“I was just leaving; I’m sorry for waking you,” he whispered, and the theater student shook his head.

“Stay, Will,” His voice was hoarse from disuse but overwhelmingly caring, and the emotion reflected in his eyes. “I meant what I said earlier; you’re essential to our group- we wouldn’t be the same without you- and you don’t have to excuse yourself because you think you’d ruin something. We’re family, and a memory with you in it is a blessing in and of itself. So please, sit. Stay a while. This won’t work unless you’re here.” 

What could he say to that? William sat helplessly, letting Mark tug him into the clump and toss the edge of the quilt over him. Within minutes he was drifting off, and he wondered what he’d meant by “this won’t work unless you’re here” before dozing off. 

**~*~ Flashback Over ~*~**

Damien heaved a breath, shaking his head briskly to rid himself of the residual memory particles.

“How did you do that?” he panted, hands on his knees as he struggled to bring his respiration back to a normal pace. “Those weren’t my memories at the end; they were William’s.. How did you show those to me? _Why_ did you show those to me?!”

“We’re in a pocket away from the laws of time and space and mind; I can do what I please. Besides, it takes me hours to go to sleep- I wasn’t unconscious like you during those memories.” she replied with a suspiciously nonchalant shrug. “I showed them to you because I wanted to make sure…” Her voice threatened to break, and she took a deep inhale. “I wanted to make sure you knew that what Mark did to us had been going on for far longer than we thought. He’d been planning this for so long, and I didn’t want you to blame yourself for any of it. I still don’t want you to blame yourself for it.”

“I deserve to be hurt,” he muttered, glaring at the ground. “You shouldn’t be acting this way towards me. You should be trying to… to get back at me for everything I did.”

(Y/N) inched closer to him and lightly laid her hand over his shoulder. “Damien-”

Batting her away, the former mayor stood up, turning his scowl on her as he walked backwards. “ _No_! No, I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I want you to listen to me, and I want you to _strike back_!!! Come on, do it!! Take your vengeance!! Claim your justice! I’m _offering_ it to you, so just step forward and _take it from me_.” A hysterical laugh bubbled past his lips, resonating around the area eerily. “Why can’t you just do it?! I’m _asking you_ to do this one simple thing for me, just this one thing, and you can’t even do it! Just hurt me like I hurt you so I can finally get rid of this guilt, _please_. _I need you to settle the score so it’ll go away_. Please, (Y/N), please, you have to. Please..”

Celine struggled to remain composed as her twin collapsed to his knees, broken and desolate and hopeless, and (Y/N) once again moved in front of him, meeting his blank gaze gravely.

“Damien, look at me. Please.”

His head lifted slightly, his face the dictionary definition of dejected, and she started to speak in a soft tone, completely opposite of the one he had previously used. The smooth, airy sound cleared the atmosphere like a fan blowing smoke from a room.

“Damien, this was not your fault. And I’m not just referring to what Mark did. None of this, not even what happened after, was your fault. You have to trust me on this. It’s not your fault Mark became a narcissistic psychopath, it’s not your fault he acted on those feelings, it’s not your fault he had William kill him, it’s not your fault he killed you and Celine, and it’s not your fault I got trapped in a mirror instead of being here, in my own body. Do I like that you lied to me? No. No, I do not, but I understand what you were trying to do, and I understand what Celine actually did, and I understand that you weren’t alright with that, and I forgive you. There’s no score for me to settle, because everything that happened was just a series of unfortunate events- we weren’t actively fighting, and even if we were why would I want to hurt you anyway? I love you, and I just want you to be happy, and me making you suffer isn’t going to make either of us feel any better. It won’t change anything, and regardless of _any_ of that, I _never_ want to hurt you, no matter what.” Her voice was achingly compassionate, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead on her shoulder, crying silently into her tattered blouse.

“ _I_ _’m so sorry_ ,” he whispered almost inaudibly, and he could practically hear the pain in her heart when she didn’t respond, instead hugging him tightly and stroking his back like she had when they were kids.

Celine had to look away to avoid crying herself. It had been so long since she’d seen her brother in such agony, and she didn’t even want to _imagine_ the torment (Y/N) must be feeling (because of _them_ , her mind finished quietly,) so her eyes flickered from empty space to empty space to the gigantic wall of breaking ice before she asked, “How… How can you forgive us for this..? How is that even possible? How can anyone have _that much_ empathy that they would sympathize with the people who literally tricked them out of their very body?!”

“I’ve almost died quite a few times since the beginning of this whole experience, if you remember, so I’ve had some time to contemplate what’s really important in life. Also, you’re forgetting I know how to use these null spots to my advantage, so while you assholes were traipsing around the woods being idiots, I was thinking about things at a speed that can’t be measured by time,” she answered conversationally. “Honestly, it’s not that hard to control these places; you don’t have to be a master in the occult like you are in order to use them. You just have to find the right frame of mind.”

“But how did you get here?” the woman interrogated, trusting herself and her emotional stability enough to spin back around. “You’re supposed to be in the mirror, and this is definitely not there.”

“Oh, William accidentally shot it when he was looking for you guys, so that pocket closed and I just kinda looked around until I realized what you fuckers had done, and so I popped back in here to see if you were both okay, and then you shot me, and you know the rest from there.”

Celine winced at the sharp edge in her tone, shame shooting a pang through her stomach like an arrow through a piece of canvas, and another fracture etched into the glassy wall as a single tear slipped down her thin cheek. “I didn’t…. I’m _sorry_..”

(Y/N) stepped away from Damien, who had recovered enough to be left by himself for a minute, and walked to his sister, embracing her gently. “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep, _ma petite sorcière fatiguée_. You have some things to discuss with Damien, and I think I’ve been here long enough.”

Quickly realizing what she meant, Celine wrapped the younger female up, squeezing her as firmly as possible as more droplets leaked from her now-shut eyes. “Do you really have to go..?”

An unbearably melancholic smile played on her lips as she answered. “It’s my time, Celine. You don’t need another person in this husk of a body. Besides, I have my own matters to attend to, and I have a feeling they’re going to be messy to say the least.”

The occultist chuckled mournfully, a choked, grievous hint of sound. “ _Christ,_ I miss you already…. Love you, sweetheart..”

Paling, Damien stared at (Y/N) as though she’d grown three heads and was speaking in tongues. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, you’re… you’re _leaving_?! Wha- _why_?!? Why can’t you stay with us?? What will happen when you go? Are you- will you _die_?!?!”

The district attorney smiled exuberantly, her blue orbs bright and ebullient as they locked with his terrified chestnut ones. “I’ll miss you so much, Damien, so very, very much, but I can’t stay permanently unless I force you two out or go completely dormant. I won’t die, as you put it, but I don’t have a body, remember? It’ll be odd for sure, but I promise you that I won’t leave you completely.” A miserable wisp of a laugh escaped her, marring the perfect image of happiness she had been a few moments earlier as she held out her arms. “This will be the last hug I will _ever_ give you with an actual physical being. Isn’t that so strange? You never think about things like that until you’re in the moment, about to do it.” She sighed, letting the thought drift away before grinning heart wrenchingly at him. “Memories don’t do the real thing justice, do they?”

He had his arms wrapped around her before he could even process what was happening, crushing her to him and desperately ingraining the feeling into his brain as he mumbled how much he cared about her over and over again into her ear. He was too sad to even cry, too sad to even _breathe,_ because how was this in any way fair? He’d lost _so much_ in a span of a few days that he’d have willingly died to protect: first Mark, then William, and now (Y/N). All of them were gone. Still there in some way, shape, or form, yes, but not really. Mark was waltzing around in Damien’s body, living out a delusional, horrific fairytale filled with murder and injustice, William had lost himself in the labrinths and catacombs of his own mind, trailing too far down into the recesses of his candy-coated madness to _ever_ come back out, and (Y/N) was nothing more than a figment of what she once was- an almost ghost, an eternal being forced to exist in all planes of reality at once, a lonely soul fated to roam around the cosmos, trapped in a vicious gray area between life and death forever. It wasn’t fair to have to say goodbye to them all at once like this, and he would’ve given anything to stop time right before (Y/N) pulled away from him, a wobbly smile on her face as a yellow glow started to envelope her.

“I love you. I love you so, _SO_ much. Don’t forget that, okay?” she called, and Celine and Damien nodded fiercely, clasping hands as their red and blue auras, respectively, pulsed around them. A radiant beam bloomed across her lips as she saw the colors, and she blew them a kiss before she disappeared in an orb of golden light, which folded itself in until there was nothing left where it had been except a few flower petals drifting to the stone floor leisurely and a small square of paper:

“Dearest Damien and Celine,

Random afterthought : try to stay as good as you possibly can together. I’m asking a lot when I say that, I know, but it’ll make it easier for me later on. Do your best. If you forget, that’s fine, but try not to. You’ll see why in a bit. I’m yellow, so I’m the weakest out of us primary colors, and it’ll be SO much less difficult for me to do my job as the third source if you don’t go absolutely batshit crazy while I’m gone. In the meantime, have fun in my body!! I’ll see you soon!

XOXO,

(Y/N) **:** ) “

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so first and foremost, I am well aware that William didn't break the mirror in the series, but I feel like it's a very Wilford thing to do, because honestly, it would be a wonder if he didn't shoot anything while panicking like that. Also, it was the best way to release the DA back into the world. Please don't be mad at me. ♡
> 
> I also created details in their backstories that aren't cannon to give them more substance and to enhance their family dynamic. There wasn't enough angst for my taste as it was, so there's that too. :) The D.A. is supposed to be 100% the reader in most regards, but I needed some representation as well as some legitimate fuel for why everyone else is so insanely protective. (Guilt is always a good motivator.) If you don't like it, you can ignore that and replace my implications with different ones; I don't mind. :)
> 
> With that being said, I hope you like it, and I'd love to know what you think!! ♡♡♡


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